Streaks of Charcoal
by Tall Blonde and Eyebrows
Summary: "Hey, wait up!" Kendall calls, rushing up to James. He gets there in several long strides, but the sudden movement still leaves his face just a bit flushed and his breathing a little bit harder. It isn't because he's nervous. No, siree. Kames.


_Stroke. _

Skilled fingers run a small piece of charcoal in an upward streak against the off-white of the large paper, lightly pressing to leave a smooth, even curve. The curve connects to another, slightly indenting in the middle to create the impression of a strong jaw line.

_Shade._

Those skilled fingers work efficiently, quickly, coloring closer to the center of the picture just faintly before rubbing it in, like shadows, mixing the fresh charcoal black with the faded gray against his callused skin. The fingers spend extra time when working on the drawn lips, letting the shades of black capture the shine and sheen of full lips. It's perfect.

_Smile._

The skilled fingers wipe themselves off on an already dirtied, green flannel shirt, trying to get off any and all traces of charcoal before lightly grasping the edges of the picture, holding it up for display as a satisfied grin plays on the man's lips.

"Do you like it?" he asks. This is the first time he's ever asked someone this question after drawing them, the first time he's actually really _cared_ if they do. First time he's ever made a conversation with a client.

He can't help but smirk smugly when the client's mouth or James' mouth (as the client introduced himself before he started the drawing) is opening and closing like a fish, those striking hazel eyes aglow with amazement. "Like it? Dude, I love it! This is awesome!"

He hears this all the time, from every single person who has ever seen his artwork (besides his father, of course, but that's a different story), but when he hears it now, he flushes with pride. He wants to play it cool, though, so he only says, "Thanks."

Which is admittedly a lot cooler than saying "It's awesome because I was drawing your awesome face." It's also a lot less corny and a whole lot less creepy.

"Honestly," the hazel-eyed boy continues, "I'm putting this in my portfolio. It's _that_ good."

"You're a model?" It doesn't surprise the blonde artist. Someone this close to an Adonis with his tanned and (from what he can tell, hiding behind that white V-neck) muscular body has to be a model. "That why you're in New York?"

"Yeah." Then James gifts him with a dazzling, white smile. "So how much do I owe you?" he asks, reaching behind his back to get his wallet out of the back pocket of his dark wash skinny jeans.

The blonde artist refuses the two twenties pushed his way. "Nah, man," he says, ignoring the fact blaring in the back of his mind, that he's a poor artist just trying to make it, paycheck to paycheck, and he should take any money he can get, "it's on the house."

He decides when he gets another one of those dazzling smiles that it's worth it.

"Well…" James begins, holding out the drawing, "Can I at least get the autograph of the artist?"

"Sure." In loopy, big scrawl, he uses that small piece of charcoal again in the corner of the picture to quickly scribble out his name and date.

_Kendall Knight _

_June 7, 2011 :)_

"Kendall…" James smiles, as if the name tastes good in his mouth, like a freshly baked cheery pie. A small chime fills the air and the man looks down at his watch in surprise. "Shit, that's my call time. I got to go or my manager is going to have my ass."

But he doesn't run away.

Not just yet.

He still lingers, giving another thousand-watt grin. "Anyway, thanks again, Kendall. Didn't expect taking a walk in the park would lead to the best picture of me I've ever seen, and you should know, that's something _huge _coming from me."

"I bet," Kendall replies, rolling his green eyes, but he likes the compliments, he likes the attention. Or maybe he just likes the man saying them…

Yeah, that's it.

"I _really_ have to go," James says again, almost pouting, looking down at his watch again.

Kendall senses the man's reluctance and he likes that, too. "Yeah, have fun at your gig-model-photo thing. I'll just be hanging out here…" he says suggestively, hoping the hazel-eyed cutie will get the hint.

He does.

"Cool." There's another thousand-watt grin. "Well, I got to go. See you later." He actually turns this time, walking back up the trail he crossed to get there; his hips sway as he walks, and again, Kendall isn't surprised this guy's a model.

"Hey, wait up!" Kendall calls, rushing up to the man. He gets there in several long strides, but the sudden movement still leaves his face just a bit flushed and his breathing a little bit harder.

It isn't because he's nervous.

No, siree.

There's a mischievous gleam in his bottle green eyes matching the playful smirk on his lips. "I changed my mind. I _do_ want payment."

James smiles, muttering something about "finicky artists" under his breath as he reaches to get his wallet again. He counts out three twenties, pulling it out between two fingers.

"No, I don't want your money," Kendall says, shaking his head, the grin growing.

The brunette's thin eyebrows furrow in confusion as a small, cute line forms between them. "Then what do you—?"

Kendall raises his hand up to caress James' attractive face, bringing their lips together gently, sensually. He moves his lips as if he's drawing a beautiful picture with his tongue, lightly applying pressure there, sliding up and down, meshing their lips in synchronization to make a perfect masterpiece. When he pulls away, he makes sure to leave a single streak of charcoal against the line of James' right cheekbone, marking him.

"Is that what you get from everyone you draw?" James asks, voice suddenly huskier.

"Maybe." Kendall flashes him a flirtatious grin, grabbing the fabric of James' white shirt to tug him closer. "Why don't you come over here again and find out?"

* * *

><p>"Dog! Where were you? You completely missed your call time!" an angry voice yells.<p>

James holds the phone back, away from his ear to protect his eardrums. "Calm down, Gustavo," he sooths, knowing it will do nothing quiet his manager. Gustavo Rocque may be the best talent director in L.A., but he's not the nicest guy around.

Ignoring him, his manager yells again, "What were you doing!"

James looks down at the black charcoal streaks and the drops of white dirtying his toned chest and six-pack abdominals. "I… uh, I took a special modeling job."

* * *

><p>So I finally watched the episode of Without A Trace that Kendall starred in, and let's just say, I'm even more in love than before… *dreamy sigh* Anyway, I really wanted to write something based off this, but I realize this basically has nothing to do with it besides the fact that they're in N.Y. and Kendall's an artist lol Oh, well :) Hope you all enjoyed!<p> 


End file.
